St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1887-12-25

| e. w. PLUMMER,
| (Collect) Aberdeen, Oak.
| The fields are barren and the snow
Lies piled in drifted heaps along the road;
My heart thumps fast against my liver down
below,
AS sit reaping crops of oats I've ''sowed."
press my hot cheek fast against the window
pane!
The tears fall down and freeze upon my
nose!
Remorse and yearning fill my gaping pores
with pain,
| And rack my marrow bones clear to my
toes!
The burning thought that in my memory
reigns-
In locking out upon these fields so bar
rem
Is that, while all the Fields have blue blood
flowing through their veins,
Not one OF them has ever yet become
baron!
And, therefore, since cannot pose as noble
stock,
And cut caper among the foreign ma
tons!
drink to your good health in royal hook,
And send the GLOBE my kind congratula-
tions!
EUGENE FIELD.
Gasconade County, Mo.
1 read the daily papers, and L would like to
mention
That keep little list-I'ye got little
list
An d on this list are papers which read with
close attention,
While some would not be missed-you bet
would not be missed,
The GLOBE dote upon. though, and cannot
do without,
1t always prints the good stuff that people
care about
read it first of all--it drives away my govt
1t leads my little list-yes it's first upon the
list.
M. Fl. OAR, Tyndall, Oak.
What. Do 1 ramble amid the vaporings of
mine imagination
Do l see transformation IN the land of the
wild Indian,
If this keeps on your GLOBE will swallow up
the universe,
And take with it a Il fish, and flesh, and fowl
and things of earth
Oh, GLOBE be warned!
joaquin MILLER (Out In the WORLD.
The GLOBES conceded best of all
One never gets his fill
Upon your taste it does not pail.
Your friend, A r. McGnL,
st. Peter, Mimi.
On this day of JOY and cheer,
When on turkey we all dine
When the poor man drinks his beer
And the rich man gulps his wine
England drinks the GLOBES good health,
And we fill our stomachs full
And wish for you content and wealth!
Do likewise for John Bull
QUEEN VICTORIA, Windsor Castle.
Despite the roasts you'v given me,
do admire your pluck!
So, join me in a cup of tea,
And. Here's to your good luck!'
GILBERT A. PIERCE, Bismarck, Oak.
If you'll move your paper down here.
And infuse some new life in the town,
Well dump our own sheets on a funeral bier
And give you a million cash down.
citizens OF OMAHA,
Per the Mayor.)
Good GLOBE! You must succeed
l cannot rid myself of such notion,
You print such stirring poems-jusL what we
need!
.sWhen the Robins Nest Again is the po-
etry of motion.
GEORGE FRANCIS TRAIN,
New York City.
(Send me ten extra copies.)
have travelled from Utah to Maine,
From Ohio to old Louisiana!
From there back to Utah again
But the GLOBE takes the entire banana
Elk Gov. ORDwAY, Washington, D. C.
Why do roses bloom and die?
Ask the winds-NotI! Not 1!
The GLOBE lives on despite hard knocks,
But we have foundercd on the rocks
j. A. W.. Digby, Nova Scotia.
please don't use my full name.)
1 forward this day by express,
Some things for your Christmas dinner.
Don't stuff your poor stomach and cause 1t
distress, =
But drink hearty-and each time "brim-
mer."
CLINTON B. FISK New York.
Despite disaster still advocate division,
OF course hear you laugh in rank derision.
But how could do anything but this,
When Mrs. c. comes up and, with kiss,
Says: "Dear, give me one-half the GLOBE to
read
While you have half-which, sure, is all you
need;
I cannot wait until you've read it through"
Now, friends, what is man to do?
Divide you say-well, that is my decisionl
And that is why I'm still irm for division.
HUGH j. CAMPBELL, Yankton, Oak.
send you Christmas greetings!
But not for you alone, globey,
Not for you alone, globey;
Ny song is for St. Paul also And for both
of you 1 MARBLE.
greet you boomers, and you builders Of
cable lines and big tenements. You have
struck rich lead; you are lucky, for.
tunate. / sing to Minneapolis, West ST.
Paul, Mendoza, Hamline and Merriam
Park. am singing aloud because 1 see
on your white or grimy face, oh, globey,
the evidence Of your good sense. sing
aloud to the GLOBE.
WALT WHITMAN, Camden, n. J.
If when Gabriel blows his horn, I am set
upon the left
And put into pasture with the goats,
I will tell the sheep-who laugh like a lot
of things bereft-